As I watched the announcements for the 2014 Emmy Award Nominations, I jumped off the couch like Tom Cruise and gave a "woohoo" when I heard Uzo Aduba's name (which I have no idea how to pronounce) as a nominee in the category for Outstanding Guest Actress in a comedy. Uzo Aduba plays Suzanne "Crazy Eyes" Warren in Netflix's Orange is the New Black series and she is crazy....and AWEsome!

After I calmed down and realized how pathetic I was, I couldn't help, but, daydream just a little....ok, fine, a lot...about perhaps one day, when I'm old and gray...ok, fine, older and grayer...sitting on my couch and woohoo'ing after hearing Ryan's name announced as a potential Emmy Winner. Chances are it would not be in the comedy category, since, although Ryan is freaking hysterical, he rarely tries to be or rarely gets his own humor. Now that I think about it, that might actually make him funnier and more believable, thus more Emmy worthy.

It's not like I think an Emmy is eminent for Ryan because he has extensive acting experience (His only theatrical production was the role of Hippo in a second grade play...he was an outstanding Hippo) or because he has expressed interest in the theater (besides sitting in a movie theater seat watching the latest kid friendly movie with a bucket of popcorn), but, for a boy who can memorize just about anything, who can imitate any sound he hears and who can sing his heart out, a future actor seems like a good fit. Which most assuredly will lead to an Emmy nod.

Like any good actor or actress, Ryan can memorize lines. In fact, he has spent his entire life doing just that...using lines he hears elsewhere to communicate. Very rarely does Ryan use his own words, his own script, or his own lines when communicating. There is very little ad libbing and improvisation going on with this future Emmy Nominee. If it's not in the script, it's not in the show.

Most of Ryan's language is comprised of lines from television shows, movies, video games, or from the lips of yours truly. Even when my boy plays with the dog, it is my lines, my silly voice, my puppy love songs, my facial expressions, and my body language. However, since Ryan is so AWEsome, and because a 45 (what?) year old woman singing to a 90 pound lab looks a little like Crazy Eyes, it sounds and looks so much better when Ryan does it. Even though it may be unintentional, my boy totally upstages me and I am left back stage, alone, during the curtain call.

One of the telltale signs of autism is deficits in verbal and nonverbal communication, so it seems illogical that I would think Ryan has a future on the stage where language, verbal and nonverbal communication are essential. The thing is, an actor or actress is playing a role. They are not chitchatting with friends, trying to understand the social nuances of peers, or figuring out the appropriate response to a vague, hard to understand question, unless of course the role calls for that, and if the role did call for such situations, there would be a script telling the actor what to say and how to say it. Ryan would nail it.

During Ryan's first ever evaluation, I remember telling the folks from Early Intervention that Ryan rarely used his own language, almost everything he said was language he had heard elsewhere. This was the first time I heard the word "scripting". Ryan "scripts" lines, he has heard elsewhere, but, ironically is able to use them in just the right manner in a conversation.

Mike Myers as "Fat Bastard"

Whether it's Jim Carrey as The Grinch or Mike Myers as Fat Bastard (Ryan calls him "Fat B" because he isn't allowed to swear until he is 16...I swear I have no idea where that rule came from), Ryan has comedic impersonations down to a science, yet, over the years as Denial and Clueless sat next to me in the "audience" listening to Ryan's scripting, I was not laughing, applauding or enjoying the show, instead, I was wringing my hands and worrying.

I would say things like, "Fat B" is freaking hysterical, but, I think Ryan is even funnier. Can I hear Ryan talk now?". To which "Fat B" would respond, in a near perfect impersonation, "Maybe. It did sound a little wet there at the end." Did I mention Fat B loves potty talk? Too bad Ryan is not a Ryan Gosling fan, he'd have all the girls at school swooning.

At Ryan's most recent evaluation, his "scripting" and language deficits were at the top of my concerns and it turns out, I was right (sometimes I hate being right...not very often, but, sometimes). Ryan greeted the doctor and her staff in the most amazing British accent which had them all smiling, After the evaluation, the lovely doctor, in a very nice, professional manner basically told me that with as many kids as she sees, Ryan's language is poorer than most kids who walk through her door. Ryan's scripting, his verbal and non-verbal communication might just have peaked at the age of 12 and chances are, it's a good as it's gonna get. I felt like I was going to throw up.

I believe this wonderful psychologist was typecast perfectly for her role. To deliver such powerful lines, in a very kind and compassionate way to this worried freaked out mom, could have easily won her an Emmy. This kind doc was doing her job and she had memorized her lines and played her role beautifully, but, Denial and I still wanted to exit stage right and silently hope the curtain fell on her head.

The doc had her lines down, but, sadly, I did not. There was no script for this worried mom. Being told that my beautiful leading man will always struggle with communication, as his critically acclaimed (let me have my moment please) supporting actress, I didn't know what to say or how to act. In that moment, all of the lines I had memorized over the years vanished, and I sat in that office with a serious case of stage fright.

Even though I have spent hours trying to understand autism, and even though, I have always been told that autism is a "life long disability", with Denial wiping my tears and repairing my makeup, I recognized that this supporting actress, this director, this stage mom had always hoped that the antagonist, Autism would exit stage left and never, ever be cast in a performance of Ryan's again.

I smiled through my tears and thanked the lovely doctor. I knew this kind psychologist was not the antagonist in this scene, nope, that role belonged to autism, and it always had. Talk about being typecast. And even though I felt like I had read and heard this script before, with a different cast, in a different scene, it still felt raw, new, and horribly painful.

I came home and cried and sulked just like poor Susan Lucci, who needed 19 Emmy nominations before finally winning the coveted award. In my heart, I believed that Ryan could still make progress, that he could find different scripts, different directors, different supporting cast and different settings that will enable him to do a lot more ad libbing and improvising. Just like directors have the ability to bring out performances in their actors and actresses that lead to Emmy Awards, with proper direction, Ryan may outperform any actor who has stood on the stage before him.

Ryan is the protagonist of his production, as well as the executive producer and although he may steal lines from other cast mates, as well as upstage them with his charming AWEsomeness, I believe Ryan will never let the antagonist, Autism, steal the show. Ryan will continue to act out his scenes, and I will do my best to direct him to a happy ending. There will be production problems, creative differences, long intermissions and quite possibly the occasional strike, but, no one, not even Autism, can predict Ryan's upcoming scenes. No one can say how Ryan's story will unfold or how it will end, but, between the two of us, we can make a beautiful production that we will continue to share with others so they can see, that the protagonist can overcome whatever obstacles the antagonist puts in their way and that good guys do not always finish last.

This is not a dress rehearsal, this is the real, sold out show. I refuse to let anyone predict the script...not doctors, not therapists, not experts, not even Autism. Whether Ryan's performance is held before a live audience or in the comfort of friends and family, I promise you, that during the last scene, when the final lines of the script are spoken, and the audience demands a curtain call, I will quietly exit stage right, and watch my star receive his much deserved standing ovation. And quite possibly that Emmy.

They say that French is the "language of love", due in part to the stereotype of the French as hopeless romantics and in part because people speaking French just sound sexy. If the French are such masters of love, then don't you think it's ironic that it was the French who came up with a game of love that determines if the object of your affection returns your affection based on flower petals and chance? Come on French people, don't you have something a little more romantic or statistically sound than petal plucking? I remember regularly raiding my poor Grandmother's flower beds for daisies as I plucked petal by petal, mumbling "he loves me, he loves me not" while picturing myself as "Jill" and having Shaun Cassidy "walk me home" while singing Da Doo Ron Ron to me. If only love was as easy as plucking daisy petals.

I remember back in my early Google obsessing days, when I would enter "signs of autism" in the search bar ten times a day, I would typically stumble upon phrases such as "fails to show emotion", "does not reciprocate emotion", "egocentrism", and "fails to show empathy". The name autism itself comes from the Greek word "autos" which means self, which just increased my Googling anxiety. My brain would start on it's obsessive train of thought and it was like a full steam ahead locomotive. Is Ryan only aware of himself? Is Ryan unaware of my love for him? Can't Ryan feel how much I love him? Is Ryan unable to feel happy, or sad, or scared? Does this autism thing mean Ryan doesn't, or can't love me? Why I would go back to this agonizing searching ten times a day is beyond me. I guess I hoped to eventually find a website that negated all this "lack of feeling" fear I had. So, I just kept Google searching, looking for the words, "He loves me". Little did I know, the proof of Ryan's love was in the hand that I held, the brief kisses that I got and the snuggles that he allowed me to give him. My "proof" was standing right in front of me.

One of the biggest misconceptions about people living with autism is that they don't feel or express emotions...an almost robotic type personality. People with ASD feel the same emotions you and I do, they just may express or communicate those emotions differently. That difference doesn't mean people with an ASD feel any less heartache, joy, disappointment and love than any neurotypical person. In fact, I believe Ryan feels more than the average person because he is so extremely sensitive, but, how those feelings, those emotions are expressed may look much different than what someone without an ASD has come to expect.

Many people with an ASD are also able to understand the emotions of others if those emotions are exhibited in a direct way such as laughter, crying, or yelling. Ryan has a hard time with more subtle emotions that are evidenced through body posture, tone of voice, and facial expressions. Ryan can easily recognize my angry "freaking out" emotion, by my shouty voice, the steam rolling out of my ears, and the spittle flying from my mouth. Ryan also understands that my tears equal sadness which, depending on what my tears are for, may cause him to feel sad too. And sometimes, when I am laughing, Ryan laughs too, then wonders why he is "fake laughing when it feels uncomfortable". Although identifying such extreme emotions comes easily for Ryan, he may not be able to recognize the sarcasm dripping from my voice when he asks for his fourth Oreo and as I once again relent to his poor eating habits respond with, "Why not?". Ryan happily grabs the Oreo and loves me for what he perceives is my lack of concern in him eating yet more trans fat. Ryan also may not recognize if my shoulders slump when I'm feeling dejected by Shaun Cassidy after my petal plucking assured me that Shaun Cassidy, "loves me not". Ryan's struggle with recognizing these emotions is more about a lack of ability than a lack of feeling.

Ryan's responses to other people's emotions almost has a direct correlation to how connected he is with a person. Ryan certainly understands sadness when he hears a story that is sad, but, if that story doesn't directly effect him, he may not respond in what most of us would believe an "appropriate" way. Perfect example. Last week there was a story that went viral on social media about a father who found out he had terminal cancer. Once this father received his grim diagnosis, he decided to write 856 notes to leave in his young daughter's lunchbox, so she would have a note from him every day until she graduated from high school. As I read the story, I began to cry and was so overcome that I left out a little sob. Ryan immediately came to me, got all up in my face (literally our noses were almost touching) and said, "What's going on here?" obviously concerned that I was upset. I shared the story with Ryan and instead of saying, "Wow, that is sad!" or perhaps getting a little choked up himself, he immediately said, "touching moment, touching moment" in his very best Goldmember voice from Austin Powers. Needless to say my tears were quickly replaced with hysterical laughter. Ryan knew the story was indeed a "touching moment, touching moment", and I'm sure in his mind he thought how sad it would be if his father was sick and dying, but, the story wasn't about Ryan or his dad or anyone that Ryan personally knew, so the story had very little emotional impact on him.

In the book, "Look Me in the Eye" by John Elder Robison, there is a section in the book when Mr. Robison discusses the perceived lack of empathy and emotions of people with an ASD. He tells of a time when he overheard his mother and her friend discussing a child who had recently been struck and killed by a train. Mr. Robison explained that upon hearing this news, he felt relieved that it wasn't him or his brother who had been killed by the train, so, he smiled. Since Mr. Robison was unable to communicate his thoughts and feelings, his mother and her friend just saw him smile and thought he was a psychopath for grinning about a child's accidental death. In his mind, Mr. Robison didn't know this child, so he did not feel terribly sad. Mr. Robison explained that when he was younger, he often felt people who cried about stories that involved strangers, were being fake, because why would you cry about someone you don't know? Just like Ryan's "touching moment", Ryan didn't know this dying man who was writing notes to his little girl, so although Ryan "got it", although Ryan "felt it", how he communicated it was not what most would expect as a typical or "appropriate" response. For Ryan, and many kids like him, it's all about the connection. When we lost a beautiful dear friend of ours, at the incomprehensible, inexplicable age of 8, through his hiccuppy sobs Ryan said, "But, she barely lived". Four powerful words that my boy communicated, that my boy understood, that my boy felt to the deepest part of his soul for people he knew, for people he loved, for people with whom he had a connection.

Yes, Ryan "feels". He feels anger, sadness, betrayal, disappointment, anxiousness, joy, love, and jealousy. Ryan also recognizes these emotions and he cares about those feelings in the people he loves, the people he trusts, and the people who love him. Ryan's feelings are not impaired, diluted, or inappropriate, but, sometimes, how Ryan communicates his feelings do not fit into what most of society believes is "acceptable" or "appropriate". I wonder who ever made up the rules of just how a person is suppose to communicate their feelings...not your feelings, not your grandma's feelings, their own individual, unique feelings.

It was once suggested to me that perhaps Ryan would do better communicating his feelings to a therapist who specializes in working with kids with an ASD. I'm not saying that it isn't a good idea, for sometime down the road, but, for right now, here is EXACTLY how I'd imagine Ryan doing in a stereotypical therapist setting:

Therapist: "So Ryan, would you like to lay down on the couch and relax while we talk?"Ryan: (in a disparaging, how could you be so stupid and still be a doctor voice) "Why would I do that? It's 4:00 in the afternoon and I don't lay down until 10:00 at night in my bed, at my house, with my Angry Birds blanket and my pillow!"Therapist: "Ok, fine, then why don't you tell me how you feel Ryan?"Ryan: "Well I feel scratchy from these jeans my mom made me wear today and I feel blind from the sun coming in your window and I feel dry from the heat in this office.Therapist: "Well, how do you feel on the inside Ryan?"Ryan: "Well, right now I have a cold so I feel kind of juicy (yes, this is a word for snotty) and my guts feel kind of gassy."

This conversation would be followed by the sound of my money flying out the therapists window.

Ryan has feelings and he understands feelings, he just sometimes struggles with the language of feelings. I have always been so blessed because Ryan is very affectionate with me...he hugs, he kisses and yes, he tells me "I love you so much Mommy". Some kids with an ASD have a much harder time expressing their feelings and allowing hugs, kisses and cuddles. This does not mean they don't feel love and they don't know love....they just struggle communicating that love in a way a neurotypical person, would prefer, but, for a child with an ASD, the way they love, the way they express emotion, feels perfectly "normal" to them. There are occasions where I am almost knocked to the ground with one of Ryan's hugs and there are times when my arms are quickly brushed away, perhaps at a time when his overloaded system is feeling too juicy, too scratchy or too gassy. For Ryan, some days, "He loves me", some days, "He loves me not" (yesterday when I forgot him at school, it was clearly a "not" day which is another blog post entirely).

Please don't ever think that people with an ASD don't feel like you do, because they do. They may not say it, they may not show it, but they FEEL it, so don't ever, ever sell them short. John Elder Robison said, "Autism is a COMMUNICATION disorder, not a "lack of feeling" disorder". Ryan's language of love may vary from mine and yours and chances are, he will not be the next French Casanova, but, I promise you, that even Ryan could have told the French that petal plucking is an "utterly ridiculous" way to determine if someone loves you. Although, Ryan could look at a flower and in an instant determine the number of petals and whether I should start with "He loves me" or "He loves me not" to get my desired answer about his love for me, Ryan would probably skip all that nonsense and in his best Austin Powers voice tell me, "Yeah baby". Yep, he loves me.

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Definition of Awe:"a mixed emotion of reverence, respect, dread and wonder inspired by authority, genius, great beauty, sublimity or might." Yep, someone should have consulted a mom before spelling AWEtis﻿m.